Doogan

Doogan’s lickerin’ up again;
An’ the boys are down the street
Hangin’ around till he comes out.
Wot are their parents thinkin’ about?
Leavin’ ’em yell an’ jeer an’ shout.
Imps! They should be beat!
Soon you’ll see him staggerin’ by,
Wait til you ’ear ’em then:
“Doogan! Doogan! Dithery Doogan!
Lickerin’ up again!”

Doogan’s a byword, Doogan’s a butt,
Doogan’s the town disgrace:
Loafin’ around in ’is dirty clo’es,
Down at the heel an’ out at the toes,
Cadgin’ a drink from the fellers he knows,
Wonkin’ from place to place.
Beggin’ for work when he’s down-an’-out,
Toilin’ a while, an’ then:
Doogan! Doogan! Dithery Doogan!
Lickerin’ up again.

Doogan once was the township’s pride;
Youthful, wealthy an’ wild,
Free-an’-easy an’ devil-may-care,
Into the thick of it everywhere;
With a house an’ land an’ a spankin’ pair,
An’ a beautiful wife an’ child.
Welcome ’e was as the flowers in May,
An’ a popular man with men;
Doogan, Doogan, Dashaway Doogan,
Rackettin’ round again.

Champagne suppers it was them days,
Horses an’ dogs an’ sport.
Dashaway Doogan led the dance;
Daredevil Doogan took the chance,
An’ none was there with a warnin’ glance,
But all to flatter an’ court,
For Dashaway Doogan called the tune,
An’ who was to pay the score
But Doogan, Doogan, Dashaway Doogan,
Fillin’ ’em up once more?

He spent his money, he lost his lands,
He buried his wife an’ child
All in the space of a year they say.
Then Dashaway Doogan drifted away
With never a sign for many a day,
But many’s the tale an’ wild
They told of his doin’s when I was a girl —
Told with a laugh an’ a sigh —
Of Dashaway Doogan, Drinkin’ Doogan,
King o’ the days gone by.

He came back here when his hair was grey —
Pinnin’ his hopes to the town —
An’ hung out a sign as an auctioneer,
Then agent, wheat-buyer, all in a year.
But none could trust him, because of the beer:
An’ how could he go, but down?
Early an’ late he was over the way,
Thick with the drinkin’ men:
Doogan, Doogan, Dissolute Doogan,
Fillin’ ’em up again.

Down the ladder he quickly ran.
An’ how could he hope but fail?
He drank till he hadn’t a coin to spend;
He’d drunk till he hadn’t one worthy friend;
He drank till he stole. An’ that was the end,
An’ a couple o’ months in jail...
Now he’s the soak an’ the odd-job man,
Loafer, rouseabout, clown:
Doogan, Doogan! Dilly ole Doogan!
Lowest in all the town.

I often wonder what Doogan thinks
As he shuffles along out there —
Off on his errant of cadgin’ beers,
Passin’ his friends of the early years.
An’ some of ’em pities, an’ some of ’em sneers.
But Doogan? Oh, ’e don’t care.
He calls ’em all by their Christian names —
George an’ Harry an’ Ben:
Doogan, Doogan, Draggety Doogan,
Cadgin’ around again.

Doogan’s failin’ in these last years.
An’ he’ll end as all of ’em do —
The fine free fellers who never can save,
The devil-may-cares who won’t behave —
An’ they’ll rattle ’im off to a pauper’s grave,
An’ a real good riddance, too!
With never a sigh for his passin’ by,
An’ never a friend to weep
When Dashaway Doogan, Dithery Doogan,
Goes to his sober sleep.